


Ask Me Again

by CaptainErica



Category: 2NE1, Big Bang (Band), K-pop
Genre: F/M, New Years Eve, daerin, darawoo, minor gdyb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: Chaerin is (painfully) single this New Year's Eve, and it feels like maybe she's being set up, or maybe...





	Ask Me Again

December 27th

                _4 days_

There was truly no reason to be at work today, and Chaerin spends all afternoon wondering why she _is_. It’s quiet in the building, people tired and unwell; the cold of winter really settling in. After another hour, she gives up all pretenses and leans down to pull her heels back on before standing and stretching slowly.

“Going now?” Dara asks from across the room, lying down on a sofa. Chaerin had been half-convinced she was asleep.

“There’s no reason to stay, everything has been completed for the year, for the next few weeks even, and besides,” she says, sweeping her arm out and arching an eyebrow. “No one is getting anything done right now.”

Dara looks up at her, contemplative, then nods, settling back comfortably again. “See you Sunday night, right? You’ll be at the party?”

“Yes, of course.” She absolutely _didn’t_ want to be at the party, or, more she _did_ but she wanted to be there under the right circumstances, and currently none of those circumstances would be occurring.

Dara closes her eyes, making a soft sound of approval. “Not that I need to say it, but wear something pretty; gotta great the New Year right, right?”

Chaerin rolls her eyes, but she laughs, amused, “right, I’ll see you.” She says, grabbing her bag off her chair.

“For lunch, tomorrow!” Dara calls after her as she leaves the room, and she just raises a hand in response, though Dara is definitely not looking.

December 28th

                _3 days_

“Do it as a favor to _me_ , please? I’m your favorite _unnie_ , right? You have to do this for me.” Bom says, and Chaerin is laughing, shaking her head, disgusted… Dara is laughing as well, covering her mouth, sitting back in her seat with one knee up.

“ _Unnie_ no! That’s so embarrassing!” Chaerin whisper-yells, tears working their way out of the corners of her eyes. “No, I _can’t,_ you have to!”

Bom shakes her head, looking to Dara, who just shakes hers as well. “He’s a good boy, I’m just, I’m _not that kind of woman._ ” She says, a little indignant, and they burst into loud, slightly embarrassed laughter again.

When they’ve calmed down, Chaerin’s fingers pressing lightly at her cheeks as she slowly stops laughing, Dara shifts and leans forward. “He’s cute though, I’ll admit, I’ve met him before; he’s a friend of one of Bajowoo’s friends, you know.” She says, waving her hand a little like that helps them understand the connection. “But I can’t believe your mother would ask you to do that, you’ve known him for _years._ ”

Bom sighs, leaning her head back, stretching out her mouth a little as if her jaw aches from laughing. “She just thought it would be nice for me to invite Daesung to go with me, since neither of us had _dates._ ” She says, rolling her eyes a little, pouting a little. “But honestly, that’s the _point_ ; if I _go with a date_ how am I supposed to find a real one at the party?”

Dara responds, comforting, but Chaerin bites her lip, shaking her head. The only one out of the three of them to have a date to the party would be Dara, with her long-time boyfriend Bajowoo. Maybe he had invited his friends; this _Daesung_ wouldn’t be alone, then.

December 29th

                _2 days_

“I wanted black and white, _obviously_ but I woke up this morning hating everything I own, and Dara took the day off from work because she and Bajowoo are up at their cabin, place, thing, getting ready for the party on Sunday and… and- no, that’s ludicrous.” Chaerin frowns deeply as she flips through a rack of blouses that she’s no intention of buying. “Despite all my years knowing Dara, Harin, this is the first time I’m going to a party of hers that includes this many _other_ people. I don’t know any of them so—well when you put it like _that_ it’s much clearer. I won’t know a lot of them, probably. I-“

She moves away from that rack while her sister prattles on. It’s harder and harder to get her off the phone now (she loves it, but she’ll never admit it out loud), what with Harin being in Hong Kong most of the time and decidedly _not_ home.

“I considered raiding your closet but you _locked your bedroom_ you little brat.” She says 15 minutes later when Harin has finally stopped speaking, she’s trying on some heavily-fringed black boots now. “Well how’s your _unnie_ supposed to look good for all these people if she doesn’t have _all_ of the possible options available to her? You’ve possibly ruined me, I’ll be shopping all day at this rate, and I still need a manicure- what? Of course I’m getting it tomorrow, I’m not a _monster._ ”

She buys a silvery, sparkling dress. It covers just enough, shows just enough… it’s light and twirly and somehow she managed to find it and it’s a miracle because it’s perfect, fits her perfectly. She dithers over shoes, but ultimately decides she has the perfect pair at home, and then leaves for the office to do just a little bit of work, ease the guilt of having splurged on something she will very likely only wear once in order to impress people who, for the most part, she will likely never see again.

But that’s the _point_ isn’t it? Bom responds to the picture of her in her new dress an hour after she sits down at her desk: _You’re going to kill it in that._

Good, then, she thinks. She’s semi-recently single (painfully), she deserves to rock a party.

December 30th

                _1 day_

“You’ve been _assured?_ ” Chaerin asks, staring at her freshly manicured nails as she waits in a café for a friend. “By whom? I hardly think your _boyfriend_ is a good judge of male attractiveness, as much as I love him, which I do, _dearly._ ”

Jiyong slouches in, covered head to toe in far more cloth than probably necessary, and he spots her, so she nods in acknowledgement, nails tapping against the lid of her drink.

“I’m _not_ asking Jiyong, that’s _mortifying_ oh my _god_.” She says, leaning back in her chair and laughing softly, incredulous. “Personally, I feel like if we haven’t met them… if _I_ haven’t, then, then that means they’re probably not worth it. I mean I’ve been friends with Jiyong a while, if these _boys_ are so close with him, how do I only know… well yes, but… this feels like a set-up, now, I hope you’re not setting me up, _unnie, please…_ ”

“You look displeased.” Jiyong says 3 minutes later, his face emerging from beneath what seems to be two scarves, one of which she’s pretty certain is not his as it’s not his personal style _at all._

She frowns at him, her phone sitting quiet and unobtrusive on the table beside her cup. “A trying conversation.” She says, fingers tapping against the lid of her drink again.

A hat follows the scarves, and she can see he’s dyed his hair again, and cut it; she hates it. “Your sister? Isn’t she still in Hong Kong? That’s the impression I got from Soohyuk.” He says, leather gloves following, also possibly not his as they look to be the wrong size.

She looks back up at him, “No, Dara.” She says, “about the party, she’s convinced I’m going to bail last minute, is trying to entice me not to.” And she’s clearly _almost_ offended, wants some type of approval that she’s allowed to be so before she catapults herself headlong into it, though.

“Well, in her defense, you’ve never been to a single one of her bigger parties.” He says, and his jacket’s off now, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt that she’s 100% confident is not his own. “you’ve always got other plans, other friends, industry parties and connections…” he trails off here, and he’s _right_ so she can’t be upset.

It doesn’t stop her from huffing just a little before she brings her drink to her lips for a sip.

“I’m going, I’ve bought an outfit, it fits her _dress code_ and it’s festive. I even had my nails done.” She says, putting her cup down to show him.

Jiyong smiles a little, and takes one of her hands, holding it up to look at it. “Very nice.” He says, complimentary, appreciative, exactly why she likes hanging out with him. “So, I think you need to tell me what happened.” He says, a little more seriously after she’s pulled her hands back.

She didn’t want to, knew that was what this was about, 3 months late and severely postponed. But she had to tell him; they were too close… and the hurt was too real still. And part of her sincerely believed (knew, she knew it in her bones) that telling Jiyong about her breakup would make her okay with it, make it easy to put it in the past, firmly and resolutely.

December 31st

                _New Year’s Eve_

Chaerin felt great.

They were an hour into the party, she didn’t have to worry about anything, could drink all she wanted without worrying about getting home, could stay as late as she wanted, could enjoy herself, completely and totally. And she was, she’d been nursing one drink for a while, but then changed it out for a stronger drink, smiling mysteriously around her straw when cute guys caught her eye (none _cute enough_ sadly). She’s on her way to the dancefloor, now, pleasantly warm and excitable, Bom following her out.

2 hours into the party, and Jiyong is ushering her over to finally meet, in the flesh, his boyfriend. She’s _insanely jealous_ , and she’s drunk enough to tell them that, because he’s gorgeous and sweet, and just exactly as he came across in videos and pictures and texts. She chides them, as she always does, for only having met him in person _now_ , and Jiyong reminds her, sweetly, that she’d met Youngbae _before_ but they’d only been friends then.

2.5 hours in, and Chaerin is introduced to a group of Jiyong’s friends. They’re motley, all pretty obviously different from each other, but there’s a strong sense that they work really well together; she’s upset she hasn’t met them before either.

“I thought we were friends!” She exclaims, tragic and still gorgeous, Youngbae’s arm around her waist the only thing keeping her steady (not drunk, pleasantly tipsy).

“For only 3 years! We rarely see each other.” Jiyong says, defensive, teasing, and then reminds her of their names: “Seunghyun, other Seunghyun, and Daesung.”

She knows better, because she’s not stupid, but she’s pretty sure she sees a little glowing outline around _Daesung_ , soft sparkling light dancing around him and his obviously attractive body, his beautiful face (if he smiles at her she might die, he’s probably got a killer smile). It’s like he’s being highlighted, and she forgets for the moment that she’s mad at Dara for possibly trying to set her up with him because, well, he’s gorgeous and she couldn’t ask for better.

At around 4 hours in, it’s closing in on the end, and she’s teetering on the edge of pleasantly drunk and ‘can’t stand up on my own’. She’s been avoiding Daesung for about an hour now, because he’d smiled at her and she’s pretty certain she lost ten years of her life and she’s not sure how she escaped having lost only that much.

“The countdown is going to start soon.” An almost breathy, pleasant voice says from beside her. She turns, breath catching slightly, and it’s Daesung, _of course_ it is.

She frowns, “did Dara send you? Or Jiyong?” She asks, too drunk to worry about honorifics, politeness. Daesung just shakes his head, a light smile on his lips, and it’s handsome, warm, makes her want…

“No, I saw you standing over here, wanted to come over…” He trails off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence because, again, she’s drunk, it doesn’t matter what he says, because as he’s saying it he snakes a powerful arm around her waist, and it’s definitely for support, her legs wobbly, but it feels warm and comforting and she wants nothing more than to lean into him and steal some more of that warmth (and more, if he’s willing….)

So she does, she leans into his hold, and he doesn’t say anything about it, just steers her over toward their friends, arm staying firmly in place even when they come to a stop.

_10!_

“Are you going to kiss me?” She asks, bold and embarrassed and stupid.

_9!_

_8!_

“Would you let me?” He asks, calm, probably not as drunk as her, or maybe he is, she has no idea.

_7!_

“Yes.” She says, turning to face him, eyes bright and wide, and she’s definitely drunk ( _6!_ ) but she doesn’t think she could regret kissing him. “I want you to.”

_5!_

“Then I will.” He says, soft and promising, and _god_ but she loves his voice ( _4!_ ), hopes it sounds just as beautiful when she’s sober or really…

_3!_

_2!_

_1!_

January 1st

                _midnight_

His lips meet hers with confident accuracy, like it wouldn’t matter if he was drunk, half-asleep, or completely sober; he’d always find her lips, and always do it well. That kiss is short, and she’s only had this one conversation with him, but he’s pretty, and _she’s_ pretty, and he kissed her… so she presses in for another kiss, a little bolder this time, hands finding his shirt, and when they pull apart it’s clear he wants more. It’s written in his eyes, wide and blown black; in his lips, the way they part, the way he leans close again like he wants hers back; his hands, the way they tighten, one against her waist, one against her shoulder.

“I want to kiss you again.” She says, pouting softly, because he’s not kissing her, should be.

He steps back, like he’s collecting himself, like he knows better, but then leans in to give her a little peck on the lips (like he can’t resist, like he’d regret it if he didn’t). Somehow, and she’s not sure how, he gets her out of the party, up to her designated room (little kisses, like promises, like bribes, as they walk), and he doesn’t even stay, has his own room with the other guys, just leaves her there, bereft without his warmth.

                _morning_

“So, can I have your number, or do I have to beg it off of Jiyong-hyung?” Daesung asks, sitting close beside her on the couch, pressing a mug of coffee into her hands. “I will, beg for it, that is, but I’d prefer if you gave it to me willingly.”

Chaerin looks like shit, knows she does, hair a soft mess (finger-brushed and probably smelling gross), makeup missing entirely, bags under her eyes; and yet he wants her number. “Ask me again in an hour, when I’m actually awake.” She says, smiling behind her coffee mug. “I’ll probably give it to you then.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will go down with this ship. Also with Darawoo (Dara&Bajowoo), which is my ultimate OTP.


End file.
